Black Ice
by SnarkyMuch2
Summary: Written for strgazr04 's prompt at the ohsam Comment Meme: "Sam slips on black ice and screws up his back, possibly breaking his collarbone. Now casted, Dean must do everything for Sam because his brother can't use his arms."


**Title:** Black Ice

**Author:** Snarkymuch

**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort

**Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Sam, Dean

**Warnings:** None

**Spoilers:** None

**Summary:** Written for **strgazr04** 's prompt at the **ohsam**Comment Meme: "Sam slips on black ice and screws up his back, possibly breaking his collarbone. Now casted, Dean must do everything for Sam because his brother can't use his arms.

**AN:**I wasn't able to cast his arms for a collarbone break, but I was able to stick him in a sling and wrench his back.

**Total Word Count**: 1,700

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing and no copyright infringement intended.

**Black Ice**

"Sam, hurry the hell up," Dean calls from the Impala. "I want to get out of here today."

Sam steps out of the motel room, shutting the door behind him. "Don't get your panties in a bunch. I'm coming."

The weather is miserable. The skies are grey, and there is a light dusting of snow on the ground. Sam is looking forward to heading south and away from the cold.

With his bag slung over his shoulder, he makes his way down the walkway toward the car. Dean is standing there looking impatient, waving his hand in a 'hurry the fuck up' kinda fashion.

Sam narrows his eyes at him and shakes his head. "A little patience wouldn't hurt."

"Bite me," Dean says, sliding into the driver's seat.

Sam is about to open his mouth to call Dean a jerk when his foot slips. He rocks back and twists himself trying to regain his balance, but it's a lost cause. There is black ice under the dusting of snow that's made the job of staying righted impossible. He lands with a hard thwack, his body twisted, his arm wrenched behind him, his shoulder pulled tight. Pain shoots through his body. Everything from his back to his shoulders hurts.

He takes a few short breaths, trying to regain control of himself, but it hurts. He can hear Dean calling his name and then he's there, beside him.

"Shit, you all right?" Dean is already kneeling down beside him.

Sam would shake his head, but he can't. It hurts too much. "Think I broke something."

"Where are you hurt?"

"Shoulder … back."

"Can you move?"

"Don't think so," Sam says.

"Do you need an ambulance?"

That gets a look from Sam. He does not want to be carted off the hospital but he really can't think of another way either, so he stays quiet.

"Right, 911 it is then."

The ambulance doesn't take long, and then he is bundled off to the hospital.

After a lot of poking and prodding and a few x-rays, it's decided that Sam has broken his collarbone along with straining his back. He's going to be basically useless for weeks.

They send him home with his right arm in a sling, tied snugly to his side and his other shoulder throbbing. They also give him a heavy dose of painkillers and some muscle relaxants for his back. He's able to walk, but only with the help of his brother.

When they get back to the motel, Dean helps Sam to the bed, where he lays done with a whimper.

"This sucks," Sam groans.

"You're telling me, princess. I'm the one stuck taking care of your ass for the next few weeks."

"No one said you had to."

Dean rolls his eyes and walks over the mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of beer. "I'm your big brother, that's what I do."

The first test of Dean's caring comes about two hours after they come home when Sam clears his throat.

"Umm, Dean," Sam lightly.

Dean looks up from the laptop, glancing over at him. "Yeah, what's up?"

"I've got a problem."

Dean's brow furrows and he closes the laptop. "What's going on?"

"I need to piss," Sam confesses.

"Well I'm not stopping you," Dean says. "Go ahead."

Sam looks up at the ceiling. "I can't … I mean, I can't get there."

Realization dawns on Dean's face. "Oh, so you need me to …"

"Yeah," Sam says.

Dean nods slowly, and Sam can practically see the wheels turning in his head. "Okay, let's do this."

Dean gets up and walks over to him. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "So, first things first, let's get you up."

Sam tries to roll onto his side and push himself up, but pain shoots through his upper body, and he falls back with a groan.

"Easy, Sammy," Dean says. "Let me help."

Dean snakes an arm around Sam's back and gently guides him to sit up. Sam pants in pain and Dean crosses the chick flick line and begins to shush him and rub his back gently.

"Tell me when you're ready," Dean says.

Sam nods with a wince. "I think I'm as ready as I'm going to get."

"Okay, nice and slow then."

Dean bends down and takes Sam's weight as he pulls him to stand. Once he's up, he takes a shaky breath.

"Ready to try walking?"

Sam grunts something close to a yes, and he takes a step.

Very slowly, they make it to the bathroom. By the time they get there, Sam's back feels like it's on fire and his bladder is ready to burst.

"Do you got it from here?"

"Could you, umm …" Sam clears his throat. "Give me some space?"

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'll holler when I'm done."

Sam struggles with the zip, having only one hand making harder than it should be, but he manages. After he relieves himself, he realizes getting the zipper back up isn't as easy as getting it down. He needs two hands.

After a few minutes of struggling, there is a knock at the door.

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah, I … umm … can you come in here for a sec?"

The door opens and Dean walks in, concern etching his features. "What's wrong? Is it your back?"

"No, I mean, it hurts, but it's not the problem," Sam says. "I can't zip my pants."

Dean's gaze flicks between Sam's face and his crotch, and Sam can't help but blush.

"No problem," Dean says, reaching over and grabbing the waist of his jeans with one hand and the zip with the other. He tugs it up without issue.

Sam averts his gaze, embarrassment still coloring his features.. "Thanks."

If Dean notices, he doesn't say anything. He just nods and continues on. "Ready to walk back?"

Sam swallows and nods. He's really not ready. It's going to hurt, but the idea of being horizontal is worth the pain.

Dean wraps an arm around him, and even though Sam is bigger, he's able to carry most of his weight with ease.

He carefully helps Sam to lie down on his back. The shift in position causes Sam to wince. He has to bite his tongue from crying out. Who knew falling on the ice could hurt more than being thrown into a headstone or beaten to a pulp by a demon?

"I think you're due for some pain meds," Dean announces as he grabs the blanket from the opposite bed and drapes it over Sam.

Sam closes his eyes. "Please."

He can hear Dean rummaging through a bag and then he's back by the bed. Sam opens his eyes and looks over.

Sam knows he must look as bad as he feels because Dean's face is tight with worry.

"Don't try to move, let me do the work," Dean says. He slips his hand under Sam's head, cradling it gently. He holds out the pills for him and waits for Sam to open. When he does, Dean carefully sets the pills in his mouth and reaches for the bottle of water.

Dean brings the water up to his lips and lets him take a drink.

"Thanks," Sam says. He feels embarrassed that he needs Dean to help him, but he tries to push it down.

"Try to get some sleep. The pills should be working soon."

And the pills do work. Twenty minutes later, Sam is drifting off to sleep and his pain just a distant memory.

It's dark when he wakes later. He's thirsty, and he can see the bottle of water on the nightstand. He tries to reach for it with the better of his two arms, but it only makes him wince in pain. He feels so useless. He can hear Dean snoring softly in the other bed, and he doesn't want to wake him, so instead, he grits his teeth and pushes himself up. It hurts, and he has to bite his lip not to cry out.

Finally, panting, he gets himself up to sit. By this point, he's overdone it and he knows it. He can barely move his free arm and his other in the sling is killing him.

Dean seems to somehow sense his pain, because his eyes flick open and he is pushing himself up. He swings his legs over the bed and goes to kneel in front of Sam. His hands already moving to comfort him.

Sam feels so weak, so frustrated that his eyes begin to tear. Dean takes this as he's in pain and reaches for the pills.

Sam shakes his head. "I'm okay."

"You don't look okay, Sam. You look like you're in pain."

Sam sniffles and tries to wipe his eyes with his shirt sleeve but can't. Dean sees him struggling and wipes the tears away with his thumb.

"Take it easy, Sam. It's going to be okay."

Sam looks up through a curtain of hair. "How can you say that? I can't even take a piss by myself. How is that okay?"

Dean reaches up and runs hand through Sam's hair. "Okay, so things aren't perfect, but we'll get through it, together."

Sam gives a small nod, but doesn't look up to meet his gaze.

"Now, how about another dose of pills?"

"Can you help me get a drink?"

"Sure thing, Sam. All you had to do was ask."

Dean reaches over and grabs the water. Sam lifts a hand to take it but Dean stops him.

"Let me. You're hurt."

He carefully helps Sam take a drink. It feels good and soothes the dry feeling in his throat.

"We're going to get you through this, Sam," Dean says, patting him on the leg. "It's gonna be all right."


End file.
